Renegade Serenade
by Insomniazzz
Summary: All Furrball wanted was to wander around, playing his violin. Too bad circumstance, an old nemesis, and some other familiar faces had other plans for him. El Mariachi he is not, unfortunately...
1. Chapter 1

_So I relented… Sorry. Characters intellectual property of Warner Brothers, blah blah blah, numerous references to the film Desparado and blah blah blah. _

_Renegade Serenade_ –Sabado Insomniazzz

I.

A slight drizzle sprayed the street in a subtle almost hypnotic beat. Thick plumes of fog roamed about along the highway disappearing into oblivion only to reappear moments later in other spaces like teleporting snakes. A humble overpass offered little shelter for the residents of the roads, but was a welcome alternative to being completely exposed to the elements on this October night. It wasn't much of a crowd, seven at best, but they huddled close to one another, not necessarily for the body heat as usual. This time a unfortunate few had the privilege of being in company with a violinist passing through the area.

Alas, what he could do on his instrument was mystical. Hearing the melody on that night, one might abandon all hope for salvation. After all, if one so talented could be homeless, how could there be any hope for anyone? But that was a thought for a later time and the drifters simply allowed a night of anxiety to melt away in the tune that the blue cat carried on for hours until the clouds ran out of tears.

II.

At first light, the violin virtuoso stretched for a while, resting his eyes a bit longer. Hitchhiking, bus rides, walking and even skitching had taken him to the outskirts of his latest destination. In actuality, there was no destination and he was simply out of funds to travel further. So Xenia, it was. Taking his first step into the outskirts of the town, the first thing Furrball noticed was the lingering shadow that stretched as far as the eye could see. A bad omen perhaps, but options were limited. Before he knew it, the cat was walking across the roads, passing park after park. Kids in the street stopped and stared. Women pretended not to notice him (poorly). Passing businessmen scowled as Furrball trudged by with his violin case. It wasn't something he wasn't used to, but there was something strangely eerie about this particular place. The way the shadows seemed to be leading him wherever he went. It made the countless eyes on him seem colder than usual.

The cat ducked into a greasy spoon and quickly fumbled with his wallet. A warm room or food? The wafting aroma of fried potatoes from the kitchen reminded him that it had been nearly a week since he'd last eaten. Looked like he would be sleeping under the stars again tonight. Sighing, Furrball walked up to the end of the counter and climbed onto a stool. A couple of slightly obese elder folk sat a few stools away, their chatter ending as Furrball browsed the menu. The feline pretended not to notice, mentally preparing himself for the inevitable "Blah blah blah long way from home, boy" shtick. The only thing that came was a waiter, though. He looked a bit younger than Furrball, but just as tired, if not moreso.

"Hiya stranger. What can I get ya?"

Furrball blinked, rubbing his eyes. It took him a bit to register that the waiter was talking to him. Such a warm tone was the least thing he'd expected. Furrball smiled slightly nevertheless and pointed to the least expensive meal on the menu. The waiter smiled wider at this.

"You sure about that, stranger? You look hungry enough to eat a horse."

Furrball's eye widened, unfamiliar with such an expression, causing the waiter to laugh out loud, clearly amused with the cat's look. The feline managed a sheepish nod.

"Alight, I gotcha. But I'll ask Miguel to throw in some extra grits for ya, kay?" he winked as he walked off to top off another patron's coffee.

Without the shield of the menu, Furrball was completely exposed to the laser beams. The men sitting near him had stopped eating their meals and were staring at him now. Not in the "get outta my town" look, but more of a "what the hell is that?" look, which was something he wasn't used to. Actually, thinking back to the past couple of weeks and it occurred to the cat that he hadn't seen another anthro toon in almost a month. Perhaps they generally didn't come this far east. Or west. But still, this didn't make it easier to ignore the stares.

Before matters could get any worse, the waiter returned with a glass of ice water for Furrball, sensitive to the fact that the feline hadn't ordered anything to drink. He mewed graciously, but nearly inaudibly, so as to not draw any further attention to him. The waiter nodded and patted him on the shoulder, acknowledging this gesture.

"So where you from, stranger?" The waiter positioned himself between Furrball and the old men. Furrball held up two fingers, then one. He hugged his arms and shivered violently, chattering his teeth for emphasis.

"Brr?"

Good, so the waiter was decent at charades. Furrball took a dollar out of his wallet and drew a house in the air, placing the dollar into the "house".

"Bank!" One of the old guys spoke up, excitedly. Furrball smiled wide and nodded.

"Brr bank? Burbank! Right? In California?" the waiter mused. Furrball held a thumbs up.

"Yeah!" The two old men cheered, indicating their lives really were that boring. Furrball shook his head and tried not to laugh.

As soon as the old man left, several other customers showed up, causing the waiter to become very busy. Furrball ate his meal in silence as slowly as possible, trying to savor every bite. One would think it would be easier to ignore the others with food to distract you, but a young patron actually went as far as to poke the feline on the side. His mother quickly rebuked her young charge initially but curiosity overcame her as well and she ended up doing to same thing before running back to her booth with the rest of her family. By the time the waiter came back to refill his water, Furrball thrust the money he owed in his hand and started to leave. The waiter stood by the stool a bit stunned and a guilty feeling streaked through his body.

"Hold up a second!"

The blue cat stopped at the door, not bothering to turn around.

"Um… you gotta name?"

Furrball looked over his shoulder. He started to pantomime his name and stopped. Shaking his head, the cat left the restaurant, much to the dismay of the intrigued patrons.

III.

Furrball remembered passing a park on the way to the restaurant not too far away. He headed for the park, hoping it was empty. Though the shadows followed him to the park, there were no rain clouds in the sky on the bright side. Sighing, Furrball set his violin case against a tree and had a seat, staring off into space for a moment. The sudden freedom of temporary solitude comforted him after his encounter in the diner. A western breeze blew across his fur, sparking the desire to play in the wind for a time. The feline opened his case before his inspiration left him and soon, a subtle, serendipitous sound of silent sadness spread throughout the park.

Before long, Furrball's eyes closed as he allowed the violin to possess his spirit and he played as if he were in heaven… carefree and without pain; allowing himself to share his emotions with the world, oblivious to the onlookers. Gradually the pianissimo piece evolved into a mezzo forte melody as the feline melodically massaged his mental anguish away. When he had finished, Furrball looked at the sky to find that the sun had gone down. Then he heard the rain, but couldn't feel the drops. It wasn't until his eyes adjusted that he realized he wasn't hearing rain, but applause from his audience whom, up until now he was oblivious to. Caught completely off-guard, Furrball blushed, looking down, only to find his violin case stuffed with cash, donated by the patrons of the arts. The blue feline pointed to the money and shook his head, waving his arms.

"It's the least we could do," a smartly dressed middle aged woman explained. "Someone of your caliber… it might cost $1,000 a ticket to hear in concert."

The others nodded in agreement. Furrball felt a lump in his throat that wasn't a fur ball. He bowed his head, conceding defeat and mewed bashfully. As the crowd dissipated, the woman remained. Gently lifting the cat's head up, she smiled. Handing him her business card, she closed his paw over it. "Come see me if you're running low on funds, hon." Furrball raised an eyebrow as she waltzed away. He looked down at her business card. Her name was Emily Duff and she owned a nightclub downtown. Emily Duff. The name was somewhat familiar to him. Did he know her?

Collecting the cash, Furrball counted around $200. He was almost tempted to stay in a hotel for the night. Almost. Finding a decent hiding place under a park bench laced with some newspaper, Furrball took a long nap before exploring the town in typical feline fashion.

IV.

As dawn broke, Furrball scurried under a tunnel. Climbing up into the awning, the cat positioned his foot paws between some bricks, securing his positioning so he'd be able to sleep without the risk of falling in front of a moving vehicle. Sleeping like a bat as a cat did have its advantages, but it was a double–edged sword, as his paws would be incredibly sore afterwards. There was also the risk of carbon monoxide poisoning, but wandering around strange territory in broad daylight while exhausted posed a greater threat in the blue cat's mind.

It was half past five when the feline felt rested enough to take on society. Loosening his paws from the bricks, Furrball had just enough time to land atop a passing semi. Sticking his claws on the metal, the feline held on for dear life as he rode off of the highway and further into the town. After three stoplights, Furrball grabbed his violin and hopped off as the truck veered off again, finding himself in the dead center of downtown. The shadow from yesterday was ever present still, he noticed. Did the sun ever shine in Xenia? Furrball sat down at the side of the road to collect his bearings. Fishing out the business card from Ms. Duff, he checked the address. Glancing at the street sign on the corner, he had to do a double take. He was just one block from the night club. Furrball had to smirk at his luck. It was almost, no, it was _exactly_ like those hackneyed plot devices from his previous career. Sighing, he took of down that street.

Sitting in front of the club, Furrball stared at the business card some more. Studied the name. He knew "Duff". It should have been setting off alarms, but the cat found that the only way he was able to drag himself from his sleep every day was to let go of the past and that meant doing a lot of storing away of his old memories into the deepest confides of his brain. Then they wouldn't be able to catch any light, resurfacing only when absolutely necessary. Putting the card away, Furrball deemed remembering to not be necessary after all, mentally noting that he knew giving up on this come back to bite him in the ass later. He stood up and approached the door stopping an inch before knocking as an icy tinge shot up his spine. Turning away, Furrball was completely caught off-guard when the door opened.

"The hell are you?"

The feline yowled and jumped back at the sound of the voice, surprised by the bouncer, who looked as if he would have trouble sneaking up on anyone. Furrball studied the man, his fur still raised as he crouched a few feet away from the bouncer. Dark eyes, dark skin, dark demeanor. Retired cage fighter, maybe? The feline gulped as the man spoke again.

"I said, 'what you don' here'?" he accented his question, taking a step out of the club. Furrball gulped, looking at the man's forearm. It was almost thicker in diameter than the cat himself. Furrball pointed to his violin case and the bouncer's face lightened up a bit.

"Lemme guess. You're looking for Bucho, right?" The bouncer laughed heartily at his own joke as Furrball stood dumbfounded having no idea what he was referring to. Before things got even more awkward, the lady from yesterday appeared in the doorway.

"Derrick, it's fine." She addressed the bouncer. Derrick looked over his shoulder and smiled before offering his hand to the cat. Furrball relaxed, accepting the man's hand and rose to his hind legs.

"Won't you come in, Furrball?" the lady's tone was as kind as it was last night. The cat mewed quietly and bent over to pick up his violin case when it hit him. Flashing the lady a suspicious look, Furrball was upset to find that she and the bouncer had already gone back inside. Ignoring his better judgment, he followed, wondering how in the world she knew his name.

The inside of the club was much larger than it seemed outside. Dimly lit, but oddly inviting. Derrick had resumed his post near the door, leaning against the wall.

"There's no work in this town for mariachis," he commented, laughing again. Furrball walked past him, still oblivious to the bouncer's humor.

"That's not necessarily true, Derrick, ya know." Furrball looked to the left and found Emily Duff sitting at bar. She pointed to the stool next to her and Furrball joined her, setting his violin on the stool next to him.

"Freddie, can you get a White Russian and a club sandwich for our guest here?" Emily smiled at Furrball as the bartender went to work without a sound. "You can drink alcohol by now, right? Is there even an age restriction for toon cats these days?"

Furrball frowned, folding his arms as Emily gazed at him.

"You don't remember me, do you?"

Furrball shook his head slightly as his meal arrived. Emily produced her wallet handing the cat a family photo just as he took a sip of his drink. Spewing the drink out, the feline backed up away from the woman, dropping the photograph. Emily smiled and bent down to retrieve the picture, causing Furrball to panic, looking around wildly for another party, dreading the sound of her voice.

Emily took no offense to this display, but attempted to usher Furrball back onto his stool.

"I figured you wouldn't remember me. We only did a couple of episodes together and never actually spoke before. Don't worry about my daughter, though. She's nowhere near this place." Emily's tone softened and a dark cloud seemed to start hovering over her face all of a sudden.

"My husband and I separated after Elmyra was committed. Never sat well with me the way the network encouraged and amplified her… tendencies. It was only a matter of time before she wouldn't be able to get out of character when she wasn't in the studio and when the show was canceled, I'm afraid she just lost her mind. It's been almost three years, now." Emily turned towards the bar again, her head dipping.

Furrball felt a lump in his throat as he sat at the bar once more. Hesitating, he put his paw on the counter near Emily. After a moment, she took it in her hand, a sad smile on her face.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry how you always got abused back then. Everyone was always stepping all over you or turning their head and looking the other way while it…" Furrball squeezed Emily's hand, stopping her tirade before it started. He shook his head and smiled, causing Emily to squeeze back. The cat dug into his sandwich as Emily watched. He gave Freddie a grin before he washed the meal away with the drink.

"Now that that's all settled, shall we get down to business, Furrball?"

Furrball looked at Emily quizzically. What could he have to offer her?

"You're an incredible musician. Can you read music?"

Furrball shook his head. The very thought of playing something that wasn't of his own devise… "Not your style, eh?" Emily finished his thought, reading his mind. Furrball smirked, looking down.

"I guess that rules the local symphony orchestra out, but how's about playing here at the club on the weekends? Tips would be great and you can stay in the apartment upstairs." Furrball

gave the woman a nervous glance, causing Emily to chuckle.

"You can relax, Furrball. I know you're a cat, but I'm no cougar. Freddie moved in with his girlfriend's family a few weeks ago. It's just taking up space." Furrball sighed, considering the proposal.

"Hey Campa! Is Quino there?" Derrick mused from the front of the bar, talking to his cell. The two looked at him as he laughed aloud.

"So, we have a deal?" Emily stuck out her hand. Furrball shrugged, shaking it.

"Why don't you make yourself comfortable upstairs, then? Looks like you slept in a subway station!"

-End Part 1 of 4-


	2. Chapter 2

V.

17 days indoors. Nearly a record for the cat. Not since he did a month in the pound had Furrball gone so long with stepping paw outside. His teenage angst subsided by the years on the road and his flame of rebellion against…anything had seemingly burned to the end of its wick. Furrball had something of a routine now, something he hadn't had since the Looniversity. As he sat at the bar eating his dinner, his new buddy Freddie the barkeep kept him company before opening time. He liked Freddie because Freddie liked talking with him. Literally, to, but figuratively with, since he made no real indication that he was just talking at him. Today's discussion was rap music.

"So I dunno… East Coasters have their days and I guess the Dirty South is okay, but the real talent seems to be wrapped up on the West Coast. I mean historically speaking. You're from the Westside, right?" Furrball nodded.

"I mean, don't get me wrong," Freddie continued, wiping some glasses, "We've got talent here in Ohio. I mean Bone Thugs… they're from Cleveland. Did you know that, Eff B?" Furrball nodded, smiling. He actually took comfort in the fact that Freddie felt uncomfortable calling him by his name.

"Oh, right. They say it in like all their songs, don't they? What did you think about 'Crossroads'?" Furrball made a 'so-so' sign with his paw.

"Yeah, they shouldn't have remixed it. Kinda disrespectful to Wally if ya ask me. I love 'Mr. Bill Collector, though. Kinda makes me wanna take a shotgun to everybody that screwed me over in the past, ya know what I'm sayin'?" The cat shrugged. The list would be too long for him to engage in such activities. They sat in silence for a moment as Furrball finished his tuna melt and Freddie finished drying his glasses.

"You know, for all his pop garbage, MC Hammer had some real insight." Furrball tried not to roll his eyes or show any other indication that he was done with the subject… Freddie took that as an indication to continue. "He did this one song, 'Street Soldiers' where he was talking to himself on the phone. One line from that song always stuck with me."

Freddie walked back into the kitchen, causing Furrball's ears to droop. Not that he wasn't relieved that his lesson in hip hop 101 was over, but why end the talk by leaving him hanging? Perhaps he was just talking at him after all. Well, no matter. It was Friday night and duty called. Furrball went to the back to tune up his violin.

VI.

It was nearing 11 pm and Furrball was taking a much needed break. He'd played for almost three hours straight and his energy was gone. Standing next to Derrick at the entrance, Furrball tried to act casual. Something about Derrick always kept him on edge, though. While Furrball was a conditional mute, Derrick just seemed to ignore him altogether, aside from a few off-beat, nonsensical comments every so often. Tonight was no different. However, when the door opened, Derrick pushed Furrball to the ground and stood in front of him.

"Max, honey, how long has it been?" Emily hurried to maneuver past the other patrons as she personally went to seat her latest customer. Furrball, aside from being shoved under a table, could tell there was a problem by the level of anxiety Emily tried to hide in her voice. He'd never heard this tone from her before.

"Gimme a rum and coke," the stranger's gruff voice barked, "And one ice cube cut like a circle!" He banged the table as he took his seat on the other side of the club.

"Oh, right away Max. Freddie?" Emily motioned to her bartender. "How about some of that devil's food cake you like so much to go with you drink?" Furrball heard Max grunt something that sounded like a "yes" and Emily rushed off to get the cake. He felt Derrick kick the chair next to him softly. "Don't make a sound," he whispered, glancing at the cat.

"This a damned cylinder!" Max smashed his glass on the table. "I wanted a circle. A _sphere_, idiot. Got it?"

Emily arrived quickly with the cake and three different sized forks. "Ah, at least you're not as stupid as your employees," the disgruntled voice commented.

"I know what you can do with that third fork, asshole." Freddie muttered as he attempted to carve an ice cube into a sphere. Furrball's ears detected what he said and nearly let out a chuckle.

"So Max, what have you been up to these days?" Emily shot a look at Freddie, who turned away in disgust.

"Same ol', same ol' I guess. People need firin'."

"So what brings you to this part of town, eh? New girlfriend?"

"Naw, they're too much hassle. Actually, I'm here to see you. Been told there's a new musician in town and you know where he is." Max smirked, looking at Emily. The other patrons became really quiet, looking away.

Furrball sneaked a peak at this Max character and nearly froze in shock. They'd gone to school together. His first name was Montana.

"Sorry about the wait, Max." Freddie hurried his drink over to Max, who tripped Freddie as he turned to leave. Freddie fell on the bar, chipping a tooth off.

"Oh, you're so clumsy, aren't you Freddie?" Emily forced a laugh as she helped him up, her eyes alit of shame and rage.

"So Em, how's about it?" Max to a swig of his rum. "Any stray cats hanging around I should know about?"

Emily smiled, wiping the blood off of the bar. "Not at all, Max," she winked at her VIP. "Why would I risk my business catering to street trash? Thought you knew me better than that."

Under the table, Furrball's heart sank. Regardless of her intentions, it always hurt to hear someone refer to him in such a way.

Max finally started to leave the club after about an hour. Standing in front of the table the feline was hiding under, Max turned to face Emily one last time.

"Remember, _Ms. Duff_, I didn't spend a fortune buying up this town to have it infested with stupid animals."

"I'll keep that in mind, Max," Emily waved, trying not to grit her teeth.

The coast was soon clear and Derrick pulled the table cloth up for Furrball, who slowly emerged from his forced hiding place. The blue cat started upstairs, trying not to show his sadness or embarrassment, but those two emotions were too strong in him to conceal.

"Don't give that sonofab*tch the satisfaction, Eff B," Freddie tried as the cat climbed the steps. Furrball looked over at Freddie for a moment, smiled softly and continued ascending.

A couple of hours later, the feline's keen ears detected footsteps on the stairs. Even asleep, the cat was awake. Curse of growing up on the streets, perhaps. Or blessing, depending on one's perspective. Taking cover under the bed, Furrball waiting to see who was calling. A knock. Unexpected. The feline inhaled and relaxed. It was Emily.

"…" Emily sat on the bed, her cool demeanor shattered. Furrball had to smile at this.

_You want your tongue back?_

Emily forced a laugh, reading his mind. "Yeah," she sighed, standing up. "Don't worry about Max."

Furrball looked up, his pupils dilating. He'd nearly forgotten. Cocking his head, the feline sat on the floor, waiting for the lady to continue.

"My customers… they're in love with you. No one would ever betray you to that rat bastard. We'll keep a lookout for Max and you can get out of sight before he comes in." Emily's tone was overly hopeful. Furrball looked away. More than the fear of getting his first real boss in trouble, he couldn't stand the thought of hiding in a bar the rest of his life.

"Hey, I understand," Emily stood up, walking to the door. "We'll talk about it in the morning. Try and get some rest, 'kay?"

The cat's meow sounded remarkably close to a "goodbye". Emily shook her head and closed the door.

Two more hours passed without incident and Furrball couldn't detect any sounds downstairs whatsoever. Packing his few meager possessions into his violin case, he checked his wallet. Just over $600. He couldn't get over it. He'd never touched so much money in his life. He could easily afford a train ticket south, now. Taking one last glance at the room, the clock on the wall was nearing four a.m. The witching hour. A cool gust of wind breezed by Furrball, making the cat tense up for a moment. Holding his breath, the feline scaled out the window and to the ground as only one of his agility and experience could. Looking at the sky, Furrball couldn't believe it. The moon and starts were covered by those ominous clouds that chased him indoors when he'd first arrived in the town. Disappointed, Furrball started to make his way south, hoping to make it to a train or bus station before dawn. He made it about five steps before feeling a sharp prick in his neck.

VII.

If there was one thing he hated more than having a splitting headache, it was not knowing the cause. The cat groaned softly, turning on his back before realizing he was conscious yet again. Before he opened his eyes, Furrball knew exactly where he was by the lingering, stagnant odor. Yes, he'd been here before, albeit in other states at other times, but they all shared the same scent. The smell of a stoic Purgatory. Sixteen ounces. Furrball opened his eyes in a scowl. The pound.

Thankfully, he had his own cage. The last time he had cellmates, the hole in his ear got bigger. Perhaps unfortunately, however. The last time he was in his own cage, he was nearly cremated. From his vantage point, every inmate was in solitary, however. A good sign. Furrball felt the band-aid on the back on his neck. Tranquilizer gun?

_Eh yo. You up yet?_

Furrball crawled to the door of his cage, trying to conserve energy.

_You up?_

Furrball tried to stretch, but the drugs hadn't completely worn off, making his body too stiff to respond to his brain correctly.

_Geezus. Youse a dog? Damn. I swear they brought a cat up in here._

_ I'm a cat. _Furrball broke his cardinal rule of not talking with others in the pound. It never ended well.

_What're the numbers? K 'n C? _ Furrball hadn't used prison slang in so long; he was surprised it came out so fluidly.

_'Bout 30 or so dogs, but only you and me on the C side, knowwhatim sayin'?_

_ Why no more cats? _Furrball glanced around.

_Two li'l letters, bro. M and M and he ain't a chocolate and he hates rap._

Furrball gritted his teeth, still waiting for his limbs to properly register.

_What's the recess level at?_

_ This ain't yo first picnic, is it, blood? Recess don't mean shit for the Felis Streeticus, bro. 100% firing squad. That motha hates our kind. He's commited, for real._

_ Damn._

_ Yeah, I'm up for the a.m., too. Don't matter none to me, tho. I done my time on the inside and out. I'm fed up with all the shit that gets thrown at our kind, ya know? There's gotta be something more than this. Maybe when I come back, I'll be a big movie star, eh?_

Furrball didn't respond… ran out of words. Crawling into a ball, the feline squeezed his eyes shut, trying in vain to stop the tears that he hadn't summoned to join him.

VIII.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Furrball nearly knocked himself out, jumping at the sound of metal beating against his door. Backing against the back of the cage, he found himself looking at the antagonist of his alma mater. Worse than the clueless girl. The spawn of Yosemite Sam stood there grinning like a demon about to feast.

"Ah, there's nothing like the like the smell of barbequed kitty in the morning!" Max inhaled deeply, winking at Furrball. Instantly the feline remembered his short lived conversation just hours ago. The cat gritted his teeth, ear flattening.

"Don't worry, cat. You're gonna join him soon enough. Too bad the state requires a ten- day wait to incinerate. For some reason, ya just can't bribe the animal cops." The midget man was pacing in front of Furrball's cage. He looked down at the newspaper in his hand and smirked.

"Got you a housewarming present," Max sneered as he shoved the newspaper between the bars. "Just like you your old blankie in the box, eh?

Furrball hissed at the rich kid, charging the door.

"You might wanna check the front page," Max attempted to maintain his dignity after nearly tripping on his own feet after Furrball nearly swiped his face off.

The cat's heart sunk as his eyes told him what his heart already knew. Emily's club had been burned to the ground last night. "Kitchen accident," said the paper.

"It's your own fault, comin' here," Max continued as Furrball fought to keep the tears from falling in front of his nemesis. "I always resented being brought up an actor. I hate you animals, but especially your kind… Feral filth."

Furrball smirked. A new insult.

"Went as far away as I could after school! Tried to make sure none of you mongrels would follow me. Why didn't you just stay in the dumpster where you belong?" Max spat, revealing the cat's violin. Furrball's eyes narrowed, eyeing him with disdain.

"What's more, you try and be like us. No, at least you don't talk like those freak rabbits, but you run around, scratching on an instrument, beggin' people for cash to get you to stop torturing their ears." Max's eyes went wild as he gripped the violin by the neck with both hands. "Well no more!" he screeched, smashing the instrument several times on the floor. Each time the violin hit the ground, Furrball felt a mixture of pain, hatred and another emotion he couldn't quite identify.

"Eight more days and you're not even a memory," Max growled, a seething hatred filling his voice in addition to his eyes, causing the feline's fur to stand on its back. Max's hatred was beyond comedic or archetypal for a villain. It seemed legit for a moment, even justified beyond what he'd spoken. Furrball found himself staring into the man's eyes, looking for something, when Max stormed off, slamming the door violently as he left. With the baying of a hound near his cage, the canine chorus came to life. The blue cat covered his ears as best he could and squeezed his eyes shut once again.

-End Part 2 of 4-


	3. Chapter 3

IX.

Three days into his hunger strike, a lingering thought surfaced to the consciousness of the cat. _Flamethrowers need fuel._ Where it came from he wasn't sure. Perhaps a bad tagline from a film or a culmination of many, but the thought echoed in his head every time he tried to close his eyes and sleep the hunger away. Even with his eyes opened he could feel the words repeating again and again, drilling a hole in his mind until he finally relented and took a bite of the stale kibble at the end of his cage. The sound of his crunching brought the warden over to his cage, a triumphant smirk on the man's face.

"Yeah, I knew you couldn't hold out," he smiled through his buck teeth poking the cage with his pen. "Ya won me a bet with Steve, so maybe I'll even change yer water for ya tonight!"

At the mention of "Steve", Furrball growled. He'd estimated that he'd been in the cage for five days now because of the number of times he'd seen the two employees wearing different clothes. Steve had boasted a couple of days ago lying in wait outside the club with the tranquilizer gun, sniping him from a tree. From the ferocious barks of the few dogs whose spirit hadn't been broken yet, Furrball surmised this was a favorite tactic of his for filling cages. Sometimes he wished he could speak dog, because it seemed as if they were trying to talk to him every so often.

Stretching a bit, Furrball reminded himself that his only chance for escape was when they opened the cage to take him to the incinerator and he didn't want to have sore muscles on that day. Taking another bite, the feline grimaced at the taste, starting to spit the food out before the words came back to his head, like a brain splinter. He ate until the words subsided.

Perhaps three more days passed without incident, the cat now more in danger of being bored to death before his execution date. Montana Max hadn't visited since that first time and Steve had since taken a vacation. It had to be nearing nightfall because Furrball's energy level was naturally on the rise. Before he could ignore instinct and meditate his friskiness into a lucid dream, the lights went out in the entire complex.

"What the shuck?" The warden nearly fell out of his chair. Pouncing to the cage door, Furrball started to sweat. He inhaled. It was faint amid the other odors lingering, but there was a vaguely familiar scent in the air. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he heard the warden hit the floor with a loud thud. Looking around as far as the cage would allow him to, he heard a sniffing sound coming closer to his cage as dogs barked. After the longest minute of his nine lives, Furrball found himself muzzle to muzzle with the intruder. A flood of emotions entered his brain as the red-nosed intruder picked the locks on his cage. Even as the door swung open and the coyote beckoned him to follow, Furrball hesitated leaving for a moment. Coming to his senses, the feline assisted the canis latrans in the classic escape device, freeing all the dogs from the pound.

After leading, then leaving the stampede to freedom into the night sky, Furrball and his emancipator sprinted towards the coyote's transportation… a slick, '73 GTO. Furrball half-expected to find a red De Ville with a certain purple skunk as the wheelman. As they made it onto the highway, the two rode in silence. Obviously. Furrball looked over at Calamity. He couldn't remember the last time they'd seen each other, but it felt like a lifetime. The years had been good to him, it seemed. Despite the obvious need to wear all-black tonight, Furrball guessed Calamity was wearing clothes on a regular basis now. Still with those red tennis shoes, though.

Calamity glanced at Furrball, who turned away. Smirking, he took out a PDA and jotted something down before showing it to the cat. "Hungry?" was all it said. Furrball nodded, causing the coyote to make a sharp turn into the nearest exit. Spinning into the parking lot of a Waffle House, the two took a booth near the door. Waitress didn't even raise an eyebrow at the unique nature of her newest customers. She looked like she'd seen everything anyway and smiled as she brought their drinks.

The two sat quietly opposite one another. Furrball borrowed a pad and pencil from the counter. Before writing anything, he stuck out his paw. Calamity looked at it strangely and waited a few moments before shaking hands with his old classmate.

"Don't mention it...Ever :)" Calamity had finally gotten rid of the wooden signs. The PDA did seem more suited to his personality. Furrball started to jot down something, when Calamity snatched the paper and ripped it up. The cat looked at the coyote, shocked as he venomously scrawled on his PDA. Thrusting the device under Furrball's nose, Calamity looked away, livid.

"You're no mute, faker." Furrball read the words a few times as disappointment embraced him. The waitress put their plates on the table, trying not to notice the torn paper. As soon as she was out of sight, the cat opened his mouth.

"G-guess I'm n-n-not."

Calamity adjusted his seat, staring at the cat. It was a raspy, nearly inaudible tone that should have belonged to a 100-year-old smoker with throat cancer. He'd expected…well, a cross between Sylvester the Cat and Sylvester Stallone.

"I h-h-had to make a ch-choice as a k-kid. Sp-sp-speaking Catonese w-w-well m-m-makes it hard to sp-sp-speak human."

At this, the two ate in silence, Furrball not shy about his appetite. When he finished, he looked around the diner for a bit.

"Th-thank you," he finally managed as Calamity finished off the rest of his waffles. The coyote smiled, shaking his head. He paid the check in cash and motioned for Furrball to follow him back to the car.

Once inside, Calamity looked a bit flustered as his wrote. Sheepishly, he showed Furrball.

"My place until this dies down?" The feline laughed and relaxed in his seat before nodding. Where else did he have to go?

X.

About a half an hour later, the two pulled up into a driveway. Calamity nudged Furrball who had since dozed off. The cat slowly opened his eyes to find a rather small, but cozy looking shack with another car parked on the lawn. Although it did strike him as somewhat familiar, Furrball was more interested in getting in out of the cold. In times when he was alone, his mind was prepared for roughing it in the elements, but as a guest, he felt vulnerable and needy.

Before they ascended the steps, the front door flew open and a figure threw herself around Calamity as he was fumbling for his key.

"Oh! _Mon chéri_, but I missed you my little coyote!" Calamity stumbled backwards getting his paws up to stop his assailant from smothering him. A split second later, the skunk's demeanor changed along with her accent. "Why didn't you text me or nothin', huh?" she scolded, punching her boyfriend on the arm for emphasis. Furrball didn't move the second he saw Fifi. His mind was racing as she turned to look at him.

"It's nice to see you again, monsieur Furrball," the faux French accent again. "Long time, no see, yes?"

The feline blinked to find Calamity and Fifi watching him. Figuring that he must have been staring into space, he smiled sheepishly and followed the two inside.

"Something to drink, _ami_?"

Furrball accepted the iced tea and tried to relax as he looked around the room. Wall to wall electronics, gizmos and spare parts adorned the room. Not in a cluttered, mad scientist sort of way. Rather, they were incorporated with the décor and were functional as well. An overturned pinball machine served as the coffee table and Furrball couldn't help but wonder if Fifi had rearranged things in such a way.

Calamity entered with a small laptop, which he connected to a set of speakers, sitting across the room from Furrball on his loveseat. Fifi joined him as he booted it up. Suddenly, a robotic voice emitted from the notebook.

"Sorry I didn't get there sooner," the electronic voice announced.

Furrball let out a laugh. "Wh-wh-what are you, Calamity H-h-hawkings?"

"Something like that," Calamity and Fifi smiled at each other. "It must have been hell being locked up for so long."

Furrball scratched his head, looking down. "I d-d-don't remember m-much. Y-ya gone one time, y-y ya gone a h-h-hundred times."

Fifi frowned, nodding sympathetically.

"H-h-h-how'd you f-f-…"

"Find out about you?" Fifi offered. The cat nodded. Calamity held up the newspaper.

"Fifi called Ms. Duff up after we saw this," Calamity explained. "Then she told us about you."

"Cali's a post grad student at Wright State. I'm just visiting from Fresno. Well, goin' on six months now. Work's slow everywhere these days, ya know?" Furrball nodded, smirking.

"So anyway, we knew Ms. Duff was around, but when we found out about her bar, we figured we'd see if we could help out at all."

"She was more concerned about you, though," the coyote's computer chimed in. "That Montana Max is gawddamned lunatic. Colon, open parenthesis."

Furrball took a sip of his drink.

"It's not a whole lot, but why don't you stay here in the living room tonight? We can talk about things in the morning."

"Oui, you're safe here, Furrball."

Furrball gave the couple a sad smile as a plan started to formulate in the back of his mind.

"Go ahead. Make yourself at home. Mi casa es su casa. Capiche?"

_I miss the signs, Calamity_. The cat's original language must have sounded like nothing to the others.

"Does that mean yes?"

Furrball looked down. "Y-y-yeah," he lied, causing the others to smile. As Fifi went to the bedroom, Calamity turned to follow. Glancing back at Furrball, he sighed. _Everyone needs help once in a while. It's nothing to be ashamed of…_ he considered writing this, but his gaze met Furrball's piercing look, as the cat was staring into space, causing him to forget what he was initially thinking.

XI.

The sun warmed his face as Furrball purred stretching as far as he could. Yawning wide, the cat found himself at the feet of a purple skunk. Nearly forgetting where he was, Furrball rolled backward, landing on his feet.

"New trick, I see." Fifi smiled, taking a laundry basket across the room. "Hope I didn't wake you."

Furrball shook his head and started folding up his blanket. Fifi watched him for a minute, inadvertently causing him to fold the blanket almost into the size of a handkerchief. The Skunk laughed, pushing her hair out of her face. Furrball turned away, timidly.

"Cali had to leave early this morning. Lab work, as usual," she sighed sadly, trying not to be so obvious. The cat offered to take the laundry basket, which Fifi gladly gave him.

"So, how about you take a shower, I'll cook us some breakfast and then we can go for a drive somewhere. Bien?" Furrball grinned at the skunk. Her French and her English were in constant competition with one another. Her accent would fade in and out as would her diction change. Maybe it was intentional, but the feline didn't think so. She smiled back and showed him to the bathroom.

It'd been years since Furrball stepped foot in Fifi's car and their last experience wasn't a memory he'd like to remember. He noted that Fifi had been quiet since breakfast and gave her a puzzled glance.

"So Cali says not to go into Xenia, but I saw that look in your eyes last night. There's no way we could keep you out. Besides, somebody's gotta teach Max a lesson and if Cali doesn't know, he can't get involved so he can't get in trouble, no?"

Furrball looked over at Fifi as she sped up. He wanted to tell her not to get involved, but she shot him a look before he could start.

"Don't you tell me it's none of my business. Don't you be like everybody else. You're different, Furrball. You don't have to be…be…" Fifi's voice trailed off as she merged onto the highway. They drove a few miles in silence.

"Wh-what about Ca-cal-cala-"

"He doesn't need anyone, don't you see? He's obsessed with his science. Just like his father and his Uncle Ralph. To him, I'm probably just an accessory…" Fifi covered her mouth a bit too late to take back what she said. Furrball looked around trying to fill the awkward silence with something. The radio was broken. Damn.

"I s-s-saw Dizzy in M-may."

Fifi glanced at her passenger. Relented.

"Yeah? I heard he left the country." Furrball nodded.

"N-new Z-z-zealand." More silence.

"You know, you've missed all the get togethers at the Looniversity," The skunk began, keeping her eyes on the road. "Even Plucky was asking about you last time."

Furrball didn't say anything, sinking into his seat. Fifi took a detour to pass construction ahead.

"Nobody hates, you, Furrball," Fifi declared suddenly, as if she just remembered to say it. "They never did. You just didn't give anyone a chance to be your friend. Always leaving at the drop of a hat before you could settle down."

The feline's ears sunk and he said nothing at first.

"It f-f-feels like a sp-splinter's in my m-m-mind. Like a t-time bomb, m-m-maybe?"

"Go on," Fifi encouraged.

"I j-j-just can't stay in one p-p-place long, that's all. Feels like I'm j-j-just wasting time."

"What do you want to do, then?"

"D-d-don't you th-think I'd be d-d-doin' it if I kn-n-new?"

Fifi concentrated on driving for a while, while Furrball closed his eyes, pretending to sleep.

. . . . .

"We're here," Fifi announced, causing the feline to flinch. Apparently he wasn't pretending to sleep after all. "So what're you going to do here?"

Furrball smiled softly, leaning close to his old classmate. Taking her paw in his, he kissed it, then gently pulled her close, leaning to her ear. "Don't f-follow m-me." Authoritative, almost venomous words paralyzed the skunk as the blue cat exited the vehicle. When she recovered, Fifi was stricken to find the feline was completely out of sight.

-End Part 3 of 4-


	4. Chapter 4

XII.

Taking special precautions not to be visible during his search, Furrball eventually happened upon a gated community in the town. Must have been a week day, since there was hardly anyone about. Wearily, the feline crept closer to the security shack, hiding in a bush to wait for the perfect distraction. For some reason, the fence was lower nearest the guard shack. Milliseconds mattered when trying to avoid security cameras and knowing when the watchman was distracted was his best bet to infiltrate the area. Sure enough, Furrball didn't have to wait long for his diversion as an SUV slowed to a stop in front of the gate and a perturbed-looking woman rolled down her window.

"Anthony, this is the fourth time you gave my son a hard time about getting a pass, now I'm sick of it!" Furrball's ears twitched as the lady stuck out an accusing finger at the guard.

"Mrs. Rossi, I told him before if he's going to change vehicles and let his buddies drive, he's going to have to take his ID tag with him to avoid problems in the future…" The guard sounded as if he were reading a script, barely giving her a glance.

"But you _know_ him! You've known him for twenty years!" The feline smirked impishly as the veins on the guard's forehead started to bulge.

"I think you're exaggerating a little, Mrs. Rossi. Do you need me to make another ID tag for him? Maybe I can install a homing device on it so he won't lose it this time."

"Oh, that would be won-" the lady stopped in midsentence, noticing the guard's crooked smile. "Are you _mocking _me, Anthony?"

It was clear from the rate the two were going that the distraction was enough. Furrball hopped the fence as the screaming match began.

…

It wasn't difficult to find Max's place. Planned communities are nothing but predictable. The cat simply walked north until he found a road leading into the woods where the shadows seemed darkest. As he followed the path, the feline's nose twitched. Definitely smoke. Had the fireworks started without him?

Cautious approaching the clearing, Furrball relaxed, hearing a couple of familiar voices.

"Hey there!" Freddie noticed the cat staring at burning mansion. "I heard you broke outta kitty jail!" Furrball nodded at the fire, pointing at Freddie's left hand. It was extremely red and the skin was cracking.

"Ain't nothin' to it," Derrick spoke up, not taking his eyes off of the fire. The three stood in silence for a moment, taking in the scene. As the windows burst from the heat the flames shot out, sparking the fountains on the front lawn.

"Well, no point in sticking around for the fire marshal," Freddie said, causing Derrick to laugh.

"Yeah. I bet Uncle Wayne wouldn't be too cool about covering for his nephew if he caught you here," Derrick mused. Furrball cocked his head.

Yeah," Freddie explained. "And don't worry too much about Ms. Duff. It pays to have fire insurance if your whole life isn't in the building like this case…"

"Alright, split up!" Derrick ordered, disappearing into the brush.

"'Everbody's gotta be down for themselves, don't they?'" Furrball looked at Freddie, perplexed.

"Street Soldiers, remember?" Freddie smiled wide, taking off.

Furrball was about to do the same when something in the distance caught his eye. A lone figure on all fours. As the image came into focus, Furrball's pupils started to sting, burning with unadulterated rage.

Slinking through the yard like a puma, the cat stopped within feet of his prey. Max was oblivious to his visitor as the tears silently ran down his cheeks. After a few moments, the words came, garbled, though they were.

"Why?...Facking money! Dumbass dad…why? Everything…DAMN IT!"

Furrball felt a slight tugging at his heart strings. His resolved weakened slight, even as he noticed the heavy stick lying near Max. Instead of picking up the stick, Furrball picked Max's pocket. Escaping into the forest, the cat just missed the procession of fire trucks.

The security guard was still fighting with the lady at his point of entry. Easily escaping the gilded cage of a community, Furrball ducked into an alley.

"Yo!"

Furrball looked around, finding a car on the opposite end. A red hand stuck out motioning for him to get in. Although trusting a pyromaniac wasn't something he'd normally do, the feline had no wheels and fewer options.

XIII.

The two drove in silence for a time. Freddie looked over at Furrball as he inspected the contents of Max's wallet. Exactly $600. Freddie smiled as Furrball took the cash, shaking his head when the feline offered him half. Furrball was getting ready to toss the wallet when he noticed a photo of Max and Elmyra from some time after the Looniversity. Even though his grin was evil, Max couldn't deceive the camera with his eyes. He looked as if he truly had feelings for Elmyra. Furrball closed the wallet before a flood of thoughts he wasn't ready for came to him. Freddie held out his hand.

"I know a great incinerator for this," he explained as the blue cat handed him the wallet. He looked at Furrball, who was now staring off into space wearing a poignant look on his face. Freddie opened his mouth, but decided to let it go.

Before he could get his mind off the subject, a single thought infiltrated the feline's consciousness.

A name.

Was the source of his mental anguish and the inspiration for his perpetual wanderlust summed up into two mirror syllables?

"Fif-fi…?"

"Excuse me?" Freddie glanced at Furrball. He smiled weakly at the barkeep and lay back in his seat, inhaling deeply.

Before long, they arrived at a modest house in a cul-de-sac. Furrball looked around nervously as Freddie parked. "Let's go," he said, unlocking the doors.

Furrball felt a cold sweat run down his back as they waited at the front door. Even as Emily opened the door, he couldn't bring himself to face her.

"Thanks Freddie," Emily smiled. "I'll take it from here."

Freddie patted Furrball on the shoulder before he hopped in his car and sped away.

XIV.

"Drink this, it'll help."

Furrball sipped the tea as Emily slowly paced around the room.

"None of this is your fault, Furrball. I was prepared for the risks."

The feline looked away, unable to respond.

"Insurance is going to pay me more than I paid for the bar, anyway." Furrball looked at Emily, who grinned, closing her eyes. "I figure it's time for me to patch things up with the family anyways. I guess you just can't run away from who you are forever just because it's easier to do."

At this, Furrball mewed softly, nodding his head.

"I just had one request, though," Emily stop in front of the feline, pausing for emphasis.

"Play one last song for me, won't you? You're incredible."

Furrball shrugged, looking at the ground.

"Oh, right. I heard what he did…" Emily disappeared into another room, coming back with a violin case. "I used to play a lifetime ago," Emily explained. "Now I can't even hold the bow properly."

Furrball took out the violin, tuning it slowly as he gently brushed away the dust with his paws. The urge to connect with the song in his heart was too strong to resist and the feline played with a fervor Emily had never seen before. When he finished, Furrball tried to ignore the tears in Emily's eyes and Emily returned the favor for him. They sat on the floor quietly for a moment before Furrball put away the violin and offered her the case. Emily shook her head.

"It doesn't need to collect more dust over here," she began. "I'd feel better knowing it's being used by a master."

Furrball relented, accepting his gift with a gracious bow.

"Won't you stay for lunch, Furrball?"

The cat amiably declined, point to his heart instead of his stomach. Emily nodded, empathetically. "Then I won't keep you any further. Good luck."

XV.

By instinct, pure luck, or simply accident, Furrball found his way back to Calamity's shack around dusk. Decidedly unsure of his next move, he had to know why that rare, primitive emotion hadn't passed through as it usually did. Even if for nothing else than to _see_ her again, he had to know.

_ Know what?_

The light was on in the living room. Good, someone was home. Creeping closer to the window, the cat's heart was shattered by the simple reality of what he saw. It wasn't that he wasn't happy for Calamity… Lord knows he must have been lonely as well, but the fact Fifi was kissing back. From her words in the car, it seemed…a dishonest…desperate…complacent action. Or perhaps it was the old jealousy he'd always harbored as a kitten. Quick to want, slow to take, envious of those that did… It didn't matter. Before he could cause a scene, the blue cat turned to stroll away.

He made it five steps into the street, when Calamity's front door burst open.

"Furrball!" the French accent was completely gone, now.

Furrball turned to see Fifi running towards him. Ignoring his tendency to flee, the cat allowed Fifi to embrace him, if for nothing else, just to remember what it felt like to be hugged. The skunk squeezed tighter and he closed his eyes, hugging back for a moment. Looking up, he saw Calamity leaning against the front door an indifferent expression on his face. Shaking himself free from the embrace, Furrball took a knee apologetically. The coyote smirked, unimpressed. Furrball looked at Fifi, then Calamity again. The old sign was back. Furrball read it several times.

"Deal with it."

Three words, so simply put…and yet…

Fifi turned the cat's head to face her car. He finally noticed the boxes stacked up next to her car.

"We broke up, Cali and I," she explained. "I'm moving out. We were just saying goodbye."

Furrball stared at Fifi, letting the words sink in. As they did, Furrball turned towards Calamity again. Just as he did, the coyote slammed the door. The feline sighed, shaking his head.

Fifi helped the cat to his feet and pointed to the boxes. "Will you help me?"

Furrball nodded, arranging the boxes in the car for her, trying to take it all in. Just before he finished, something made him drop the last box.

B A N G ! ! !

Furrball's eyes immediately followed the noise and he sprinted to the shack, Fifi not far behind. Before the cat could bust down the door, Calamity, wearing a welding mask emerged at the window, revealing a burnt bag of popcorn and shrugged. Furrball punched the door and loaded the last box into Fifi's car. As he picked up his violin case and started to take off down the road, Fifi pulled his arm. The feline submitted and the two got into her car.

-End Part 4 of 4-

_Special Thanks to Gui Montag_


End file.
